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Davis British Women Romantic Poets Series

I.D. no. 128

-- Managing Editor
Charlotte Payne
-- Founding Editor
Nancy Kushigian

Classical pastime, in a set of poetical enigmas, on the planets and zodiacal signs.

Curties, Marianne.

-- byMarianne Curties.

Snare and Man
Reading
J. Richardson
London
1813

This text was scanned from its original in the Shields Library Kohler Collection, University of California, Davis. Kohler I Suppl:263. Another copy available on microfilm as Kohler I Suppl:263mf.

All poems, line groups, and lines are represented.
All material originally typeset has been preserved, with the exception of running heads, the original prose line breaks, signature markings and decorative typographical elements. Page numbers and page breaks have been preserved. Pencilled annotations and other damage to the text have not been preserved.

CLASSICAL PASTIME.

[Title Page]

CLASSICAL
PASTIME,
IN A
SET OF POETICAL ENIGMAS,
ON THEPlanets and Zodiacal Signs.

BY
MARIANNE CURTIES.

___________________My timorous muse,
Unambitious tracts pursues;
Does with weak unballast wings,
About the mossy brooks and springs,
Like the laborious bee,
For little drops of honey fly,
And there with humble sweets contents her industry.

ADVERTISEMENT.

THIS little Work is presented to the public,
as one of the trifles of the day, too insignificant
to require a preface, and expecting the smile,
only of those who possess the happy philosophy
of being easily pleased; which disposition residing chiefly with the young and inexperienced, to them it is dedicated, by their truly affectionate well wisher,

INTRODUCTION.

COME, Muse belov'd! my solace and my joy,
In the still hour do thou my thoughts employ;
With thee I'd rove by eve's inspiring star
That shoots its gentle beams so wide, so far;
Like virtuous deeds in this dark world of woe,
That o'er the gloom their sacred radiance throw:
With thee I'd wander, in the moonlight hour
Through fairy haunts, and pluck wild fancy's flower;
With thee, companion dear! would I explore
The wide meandering streams of classic lore;
But when the early dawn of young eyed day
Sheds o'er the orient hills the golden ray,
Farewell, beloved Muse—far other cares
Demand my thoughts—farewell till eve again appears.

Next her, of old, fam'd for connubial love,
Whom not Apollo's blandishments could move;
Who on her husband's pile resign'd her breath;
The sacred flame uniting them in death.

Then the fair dame, renown'd for giving birth
To the plump rosy god of wit and mirth,
Who unto men the fatal secret taught,
How sparkling wine could from the grape be brought.

Th' initials join'd, will that kind season shew,
When Sol's warm beam dissolves the winter's snow:
Then infant feet along the meadows stray,
To seek the violet fragrant, and the primrose gay;
Sweet emblems of themselves, as artless and as meek,
While native candour decks each cherub cheek.

The Muse first courted by old Egypt's swains,
While glittering stars bedeck'd the azure plains.

Next, name that river, whose black wave surrounds
With nine deep windings the infernal bounds;
By which dread stream, the Gods adjur'd their fate;
An oath, not Jove himself durst violate.

These shew a sign, when clouds and sunshine vie,
Which shall obtain the empire of the sky;
Like life's gay morn, ere anxious feeling bleeds,
When the quick smile the transient tear succeeds.
Then listen to the cuckoo's simple note,
That finds an echo in each urchin's throat;
Companion faithful, of green, skirted spring,
Reviving nature joys to hear thee sing!

That beauteous nymph, who to a heifer chang'd
Through many a mead, o'er many a mountain rang'd;
'Till freed at last from jealous Juno's hate,
Became a Goddess of th' Egyptian state.

That Lydian mother, arrogant and vain,
Whose children were by wrathful Dian slain:
Benumb'd with grief the wretched mother stands
A marble statue, from no sculptor's hands
But chang'd by sorrow; on her pallid face
The stony tears, for ever hold their place.

Th' ill fated youth, who in too venturous flight
On waxen wings, fell from th' ethereal height,
And plunging headlong in the briny tide,
He nam'd a sea that Grecian isles divide.

These shew the sign when morning's early tear
Glistens a dew-drop unto beauty dear:

[CANCER.] ♋

A CITY that adorn'd old Afric's clime,
Rival of Rome, and boast of ancient time;
Through brilliant years its splendid victories shine,
But forc'd at last its laurels to resign,
The faithless race, unto destruction given,
Felt the just arm of an avenging Heaven.

The parent and the pride of Grecian states,
Which, (as th' historian's faithful page relates)
Deserv'd the wonder of the great and wise;
Whence arts and learning drew their rich supplies.

An ancient city on Campania's plains,
In which soft clime a spring perpetual reigns;

Whose hard inhabitants did once refuse
A cup of water, to the Mantuan muse;
Th' indignant poet blotted out the lays,
Which else had eterniz'd the city's praise.

A little town that in Apulia lay,
Which nam'd the battle of that fatal day,
When Roman blood enrich'd the thirsty plain,
And forty thousand fell, by Carthage slain.

A city to Diana much endear'd,
Whose piety the wond'rous temple rear'd.

And last, the seven hill'd city, fam'd of old
For patriots firm, and deeds of warriors bold.
The sign resulting from th' initials shews
When from her lap, the wanton Flora throws
The painted tulip and the flaunting rose:

These tell the sign when Sol most ardent gleams,
And fainting nations sink beneath his beams;
To cool retreats and chequer'd shades repair
From all the din of sultry cities far:
Rise ere the bee begins her early task,
And ere the nestling wakes its food to ask,
While yet the dew-drop trembles on the thorn,
Arise, and taste the balmy breath of morn;
Take the long devious walk that friendship loves,
Where converse sweet the passing hour improves:
And when the sun has reach'd the west, inhale
The spicy sweets that scent the evening gale.

[VIRGO.] ♍

A ROMAN Maid, whose virgin beauties charm'd
The tyrant Appius, who with greatness arm'd
His trembling victim seiz'd; the father came,
And urg'd in vain, a father's tender claim:
In frantic woe, he snatch'd the fatal knife,
And sav'd his daughter's honor, with her life.

A Phrygian Mount, upon whose woody height
The Gods descended, to behold the fight
Where heroes fell, by happier heroes slain;
And Greeks and Trojans press'd th' ensanguin'd plain.

An Infant, who expos'd on Tyber's bank,
Cradled in water weeds and rushes dank,
A she-wolf found, and foster'd with her love:
(For fellest beasts may angel pity move)
On savage milk the embryo hero grew,
From whom great Rome her earliest dawning drew.

The Grecian Worthy, who, 'midst venal rust,
Obtain'd the glorious title of "the just;"
No recompence he sought for acting well,
But wrote his name upon the proffer'd shell.

These names in order range, a sign behold,
When day and night an equal empire hold:
The harvest in, rough Industry may rest,
And grateful view earth's copious bosom blest
With laughing plenty, and the yellow grain
In order stack'd, upon the russet plain.

[SCORPIO.] ♏

A MONSTER, who devour'd the human race,
(An emblem fit of vice) her beauteous face
Conceal'd a body foul and hideous tail:
Wrapt in enigmas dark her arts prevail;
'Till one resolv'd by Œdipus the wise,
The charm is broken, and the monster dies.

Hell's horrid Porter, who on Pluto's coast,
From Charon's boat, receiv'd the pallid ghost;
Who with three heads and gaping mouths was arm'd,
Which Orpheus by his heavenly music charm'd,
What time, his lov'd Eurydice he sought
And from those realms, his soul's prime treasure nigh had brought.

A useful Beast, by the Egyptians made
The symbol of a God, to whom they paid
Honors divine; by superstition led
The flower-crown'd victim on his altars bled.

That Steed, by his brave master much caress'd,
To which he that pathetic speech address'd
Recorded in the poet's deathless lay,
(Or else had never reach'd our distant day)
When breathing vengeance for his Lausus slain,
He rush'd impetuous on the bloody plain.

The name of that wing'd Servant of the Muse,
Whom poets of all ranks full oft abuse;
By critics too, most surly, kick'd at will;
Yet still he waits, the poet's servant still.

Then, name that Courser, whose degenerate lor
Was justly by the Roman world abhorr'd;

This horse did most his vile affections move,
And him he pamper'd with an ideot love;
On gilded oats from ivory mangers fed,
And with the priestly honors deck'd his head.

A bivalve Fish, renown'd in attic lore,
For the great names which on its shell it bore,
When by ambition spurr'd, they sought to gain
A height, the laws forbad them to attain.

These creatures join—a sign they will declare,
When pestilential vapours fill the air;
Yet not devoid of charms the varied scene,
Where autumn's mellow tints usurp the vivid green;
The mountain-ash her coral berries shews,
And china-aster gay still lingering blows,
Which gentle Flora as a parting gift bestows.

[SAGITTARIUS.] ♐

THE virtuous Tutor of the prince most vile,
Who welcom'd death with an approving smile,
When to the tyrant's base commands he bow'd,
And from his veins the crimson current flow'd.

That Dog, most faithful of the faithful race,
Who knew his master, though with alter'd face,
From youthful beauty chang'd to ripen'd grace,
By time's all mellowing hand, who now had spread,
With silver honors, his majestic head:
The servant too was chang'd, the hand of time
Had stolen his vigour and destroy'd his prime;
And the long lapse of twenty years gone by,
Had injured his fine scent, and dimm'd his eye:

He who was left a puppy at the board,
Could now scarce crawl to welcome home his lord;
Yet through his vile disguise his long lost lord he spied,
Look'd in dum
eloquence his joy, and died.

That once fam'd Country, whose meridian bright
Has long been set in intellectual night;
Those academic shades where wisdom trod,
Of slave or despot, now the vile abode;
Where free philosophy once charm'd the soul,
Now, the dark waves of superstition roll:
Ill-fated country! who can e'er refuse
To weep thy fate, with Byron's plaintive Muse,
And curse with him those goth-like hands, that dare
Thy classic relics from thy bosom tear.

Now, name me that illustrious Grecian maid,
Who bound, and on Diana's altar laid:

That pitying goddess rescued from her fate,
And safe transported to a distant state.

The Youth, on whom her arts Calypso tried;
But taught by Mentor, he Love's darts defied;
For Love, unlucky urchin! rarely gains
The smile of wisdom to reward his pains.

Of that fair Goddess-mother, tell the name,
Whom Homer styles the "silver-footed dame."

Then name her Son, whom holding by his heel,
She made impervious to the warlike steel,
By dipping him in Styx' tremendous wave,
Whence he emerg'd, the bravest of the brave;
Yet doom'd to fall by the sly Trojan's dart
Aim'd at the heel, his only mortal part.

Unite these names, the combination shews
When gloomy fogs prevail, or piercing Boreas blows,
And with diminish'd rays faint Phœbus glows,
The joyless year, by ruthless winter chang'd,
Hard as the thought of bosom friend estrang'd:
The muse has felt the pang, and feeling still must weep:
Heaven save thee, Reader! from a wound so deep.

[CAPRICORNUS.] ♑

THAT Poet name, whose fascinating lay,
Cheers the sad soul with hope's enlivening ray;
In softest colors drest the cherub smiles,
And of its cares, the woe-worn heart beguiles.

Then Him, immortal by the best of fame,
The friend of virtue, in the poet name;
Whether in Cato the firm patriot glows,
Or mild devotion from his bosom flows:
See modern vice in his Spectator lash'd,
And bold effrontery forc'd to turn abash'd.

A Poet next, the wonder of his age;
The Muse he courted but to make her sage,

The ills of poverty and grief impart,
In nature's language, reaching to the heart?

A Latin Poet next, the Muse reveals,
Who taught the arts in which sly Cupid deals:
How Gods and Goddesses transform'd and chang'd,
This poet tells, when on our earth they rang'd:
In never-tiring verse, he tells again
Of men transform'd to brutes, and brutes to men.

Those "potent, grave and reverend Seigniors"
The dread of Writers all, though Scotts or Mores,
Who keep their awful court on Scottish land,
And tyrants rule o'er all the poet band;
Save o'er poor nameless wights, who find perchance,
A shelter in their insignificance;
Those who like me, appear in borrow'd plumes,
Or weave up ancient stuff in modern looms;

Who if they shine, 'tis with a glow-worm light,
Splendid by favor of surrounding night.

Then, him sublime of soul! whose searching mind
Did all the hidden depths of wisdom find:
High favor'd Man! to whose enamour'd arms,
Nature unveil'd, resign'd up all her charms:
'Twas his, t' unravel the prime rays of light,
And curb the wandering beauties of the night.

A name, by many a haughty Pope assum'd,
Whilst in the church rank superstition bloom'd;
The Attic-bee, amongst the number fam'd;
For Grecian lore and Grecian sweetness nam'd.

And last, a star that gilds the present day,
His genius charms us in his Minstrel's lay;

With varying grace delights in Marmion's gloom,
And changing still, enchants in Ellen's bloom:
Change as he will, to please is still his doom.

These shew a month when few delight to roam,
Then, dearest are the joys of dear-lov'd home;
The social circle round the blazing hearth,
Full light of heart, enjoy the flights of mirth,
Or more sedate, some poet's lay invites,
Or "Music's melting voice" the listening ear delights;
Still the soft charm of kindred love goes round,
From heart to heart responsive joys abound.

The blushing, Goddess next, who early pours
The silver dews into the opening flowers.

A river rising 'midst the Apennines,
Whose well-known name in Roman story shines;
For the great Cæsar when he led his ranks
Towards mighty Rome, awhile upon its banks
Appall'd, the hesitating Hero stood,
Ere he durst pass the interdicted flood.

A rough barbarian flood, scarce known to song,
That many an humbler river bears along,
Compell'd their tributary urns to bring,
And aid the torrent of their watery king;
His raging force increas'd by northern snows,
Spurning the keel, in headlong cataracts flows,
'Till in the Euxine his proud waves subside,
And blend resistless with a softer tide.

A Country, named from its umbrageous plains;
Or from its clouded skies and frequent rains.

Of that delusive Fount the name impart,
Whose fatal taste enervated the heart;
Exanimate the frame, the slacken'd nerves unstrung,
The soften'd soul in listless languor hung,
'Till all dissolv'd by the insidious flood,
The man was chang'd to feeble womanhood:
Emblem of pleasure, whose too soft control
Destroys the virtue of the yielding soul.

These words unite, a sign there will appear,
When dripping rains obscure the infant year;
Yet still with joy, we mark the lengthening day,
As nearer to the west, we catch the parting ray,
When oft at eventide, a sudden gleam we view,
That seems to speak through tears, a kind adieu.

[PISCES.] ♓

THE modest Sage, who taught 'midst Attic shades,
How the Great Being Nature's works pervades,
Taught how he fills, sustains and moves the whole:
Taught the high value of the human soul,
An emanation of the Deity.
And plac'd in virtue, true philosophy.

An ancient Harbour on the Gallic coast,
Whence cross'd the Roman with th' invading host:
Albion's white cliffs were crown'd with verdure rare,
And Cæsar coveted an isle so fair.

Amongst the wise, the wisest and the best
Fair virtue's beauty in his life exprest,

Sublime in simple innocence it shone,
And taught the worship due to God alone:
Th' Athenians, blind in superstitious rage,
Hated the doctrine, and condemn'd the sage:
The patient martyr yielded up his breath
To hateful hemlock, noxious plant of death!

A Man whose soft humanity endears:
His memory grateful China still reveres;
So pure his morals, and so priz'd his worth,
That when he died, 'twas said to punish earth
Heaven call'd him home; thus to the good is given
By nature's voice, affinity with Heaven!

A Greek Philosopher, whose moral rules
Were misapplied amongst the ancient schools;
Pleasure and happiness were one, he taught,
But not such pleasure as the senses sought;

Not to unbridl'd
lust to give the rein:
Virtue, his pleasure was, and vice his pain.

One of the Seven, whom Greece is proud to claim,
To whom great Athens owes her highest fame;
This Sage abhorr'd the murderer of time,
And in his laws, made idleness a crime.

These names combine—then sober breezes bring
The snow-drop chaste, sweet promise of the spring,
With rapture hail'd, by every little wing
That taught by love to form the downy nest,
Awaits the joy, that warms the parent breast,
When the first chirp salutes her anxious ear,
And wakes her heart to feel a mother's tender care.

CONCLUSION.

THE Muse attracted by bright Phœbus' ray,
Has travelled through the Zodiac's glittering way;
Has mark'd the Bull with his bright eye of gold,
And Leda's Twins their silvery light unfold;
Seen Leo glow with Sol's refulgent heat,
And Virgo blush his ardent gaze to meet;
Beheld the Earth on her soft axle, roll
Alternate to the Sun each frozen pole;
Observ'd each Star that drinks the solar ray,
And Luna fair who emulates the day;
View'd countless Suns through telescopic nights,
Myriads on myriads crowding on the sight,
With wonder view'd, with adoration glows,
Of that Great Hand from which all beauty flows.

Paraphrase on Part of the Third Chapter of the
First Epistle of St. Peter.

WOULD ye be blest, ye sons of men? oh say!
Would ye see good in this your mortal day?
Restrain each wayward word, each sinful thought,
Be slow to blame, and hide a brother's fault:
The Power supremely good, for ever blest,
Regards with pitying eye the good distrest.
Who is it, think ye, that shall harm ye,
If good and virtuous actions charm ye?
To the good man e'en bitterest griefs shall prove
The gracious mandates of chastising love,
Man's dross and imperfections to refine,
And raise the human nature to divine.

Paraphrase on the Lord's Prayer.

FATHER of all, who on this varied earth
Have trod, since blooming nature first had birth;
Thou, who supreme in glory sitt'st, all worlds above,
Yet hear'st Thy children's prayer with pitying love,
Bless'd by
Thy name, through all creation round;
Bless'd be Thy name, wherever man is found,
Whate'er his color, or whate'er his land,
From Zembla's frozen coast, to Lybia's burning sand:
Be Thy dominion felt in every heart;
To every breast Thy heavenly grace impart,
That as the Seraph joys to do Thy will,
So may Thy sons on earth, Thy holy laws fulfil:
Thou, from whose bounty all our blessings flow,
On us, this day, Thy wonted gifts bestow:

Thou, unto whom all hearts lie open wide,
And from whose seaching
eye, no secret thought can hide,
Father, forgive, Thou who alone art good,
Forgive the frailties which Thine eyes have view'd:
As we compassion to our brethren shew,
So may our errors Thy compassion know:
Lead us through this day's evil free from stain,
And sanctify alike our joy, or pain:
By Thee conducted, wheresoe'er we go
Secure of blessing, e'en though hid in woe.
To Thee, dominion, glory, power belong;
Thine is Man's praise, and Thine the Seraph's song.